


Hard Words

by Harp_of_Gold



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Celebrimbor in Gondolin, Harassment, M/M, Making Up, Sexism, fallen banners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28994970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harp_of_Gold/pseuds/Harp_of_Gold
Summary: Celebrimbor confronts Maeglin about his treatment of Idril. Feelings are hurt. Discoveries are made.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Maeglin | Lómion, unrequited Maeglin/Idril
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	Hard Words

“Maeglin, I care about you a lot, and I’m not saying this to hurt you, but you’re being a jerk and you need to stop. It isn’t fair to Idril or Tuor. You can’t keep treating them this way.”

The look of utter betrayal on Maeglin’s face cut Celebrimbor to the quick, but he couldn’t back down. This was important.

“I thought you at least would stand by me.”

“This is standing by you, Maeglin. I know you; I know you wouldn’t want to wrong her, but that’s exactly what you’ve been doing.”

“Oh, so this is for my benefit, is it? Dragging me off and laying into me for trying to bring her to her senses?”

“You can’t make her decisions for her! She knows what she’s doing, and you have to respect that!”

“The same way you aren’t making decisions for me? Maybe you should leave me alone and let me do what I think best!”

“Accosting her in the square isn’t going to change her mind,” Celebrimbor said softly. He knew what kind of desperation that must have taken; as long as he’d known him he’d watched Maeglin hesitate to speak and withdraw from crowds and compose long, eloquent speeches that he ripped into pieces when he realized he wouldn’t be able to say them. He’d begged Celebrimbor to accept deliveries to the forges on his behalf, when the thought of interacting with one more person was too much for him to bear. For Maeglin to draw attention to himself, to speak to Idril outside of council meetings at all, much less to shout at her in public…Celebrimbor could hardly imagine what had gone through his head and spurred him on.

“Nothing else has,” Maeglin spat. “I suppose you think I should leave her to it, then? Let her waste her once-in-eternity love on a Man who will die and leave her alone forever?”

“That’s her choice.”

“It’s a bad one! He’s not better than me!”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of—” 

“You think _I_ deserve to be alone and loveless forever? It isn't fair! I’ve been patient, Tyelpë! I’ve loved her all this time, and I thought maybe this would just be a little fling, she would have her fun, and then she’d move on, and maybe finally, finally I could prove to her that I’m worth something, and everything would be all right. But no. No, she’s going to _marry_ him, and I can’t let that happen!!”

“You can’t stop it, Maeglin. All you can do now is accept it gracefully, or drive her the rest of the way out of your life.”

“This is because you’re jealous, isn’t it? A _friend_ would support me. A friend would at least try to understand what I’m suffering! But no, you’re thinking of yourself and how I’ll be all yours without that pesky _competition.”_

Celebrimbor stepped back as if he’d been struck.

“Well, I don’t love you, I love Idril. And if this is what your friendship is like, maybe I don’t need that either.”

“Maeglin, please…”

“I’ll find some way to stop it. I’ll talk to Turgon. He can forbid it. He can’t want to lose her. What if she follows after him as they say Lúthien will? He’d lose her forever.” Maeglin had turned away and clearly wasn’t speaking to Celebrimbor anymore, but Celebrimbor answered anyway.

“Do you really want to hem her in the way your mother was held, against her will? Really? Because that’s what you’re talking about. Taking away her freedom and turning her into a captive.”

Cold fury blazed from Maeglin’s eyes. “Don’t bring my mother into this.”

“Your mother wouldn’t want to hear the things you’re saying.” Celebrimbor knew as he said it how cruel it was and that there would be no coming back from it.

Maeglin snarled at him. “I said don’t speak of her!” He swept the dishes on the table between them to the floor. A glass shattered—Celebrimbor’s favorite, he noted distantly, the one with swirls of red he’d bought because it reminded him of home. “You’re just like all the rest. You only pretend to care about me when it’s convenient, and the moment it isn’t, you turn on me too. Well? Am I enough of an _orc_ for you?!”

“I think you should leave now.” Celebrimbor hated how his voice got quieter and quieter mid-conflict. He rather wanted to be screaming himself. His father had screamed, when there were arguments. Uncle Tyelko had roared. And Tyelpë had retreated into himself until, if he was forced to answer, it was soft and calm enough for them all. It had been so new and foreign; they’d never done that before the Oath. He wanted to cry for all of it all over again.

Maeglin’s eyes widened, and Celebrimbor grieved for the depths of pain and anger he saw there. “I am leaving. And I’m not coming back.” Maeglin slammed the door so hard it rattled the windows. Celebrimbor fought down the impulse to go hide behind his bedcurtains and made himself clean up the mess first. He knew he’d be glad of it in the morning when he didn’t have to get up and deal with broken glass.

He lay in the dark that night, sleepless. How did he keep finding himself in this position, driving away the people he loved? Was he too harsh? Too rigid? Too unforgiving? He didn’t see how he could have chosen differently. His father—if he’d stood with him, he’d have betrayed Finrod’s memory too. Finrod, whom he’d admired and looked up to. Finrod, who was always generous and kind-hearted to all who met him. Finrod, who’d kept his own oath. Celebrimbor could never condone what his father and uncle had done, and he couldn’t follow them any longer after that. If anything, he wished he’d opposed them more strongly sooner, though he doubted it could have changed what happened.

He didn’t think he could’ve chosen otherwise today either. It was no friendship he wanted if he could stand aside and watch his dear friend hurt others. He’d had to say _something._ He could have done it better, though. He hadn’t been kind enough, careful enough, and that was why—no. He mustn’t start blaming himself for Maeglin’s actions. He wouldn’t. But what if he’d phrased it just a little better? Had refrained from mentioning Aredhel? What if he could have spared Maeglin the despair that had taken him as he stormed out? He was sure Maeglin didn’t mean half of what he’d said; he knew it must hurt to hear those things; of course he’d been upset. He knew too what a precious thing Maeglin’s trust was and how hard it was for him to open up to anyone the way he had to Celebrimbor, and he wondered if he’d destroyed that trust forever. That wasn’t what he’d wanted. Celebrimbor curled around a pillow and wept for all the things he could never repair. 

*

He saw Maeglin in passing the next day, but Maeglin turned away and didn’t speak to him. He didn’t speak the day after either, nor the day after that. Celebrimbor was trying to reconcile himself to the idea that he might not get his friend and lover back. His studies provided little distraction, and he was putting away his books and organizing his research notes when he heard a soft knock at the door. It was repeated once, falteringly. Maeglin stood upon the doorstep. His face was streaked with tears that glimmered in the dark. Celebrimbor waited, unsure what to say. 

Maeglin wouldn’t look at him. “You were right.”

If he’d slept since their fight, Celebrimbor wouldn't have believed it. His dark eyes had so much purple beneath them they might have been bruised. Celebrimbor opened the door wider and started to invite him in, but Maeglin seemed to take his moment of shock as rejection, for he shrank back with a little sob, clutching something to his chest. “You were right, I was a jerk, and I was really horrible to you, and you didn’t deserve any of that, and I…I just…” He opened his mouth again, closed it, and shook his head. He pushed what he was holding into Celebrimbor’s hands. 

Celebrimbor pulled back the wrapping from a glass cup and opened the note tucked in with it. _“For the one I broke. It was the red one you liked so much, wasn’t it? This is the closest match I could find. I’m really sorry. And I’m sorry for all the shit I said. You didn’t deserve that.”_

When Celebrimbor looked up again, Maeglin had disappeared. With a quiet curse, he set the glass aside and went after him. “Maeglin, wait!” He caught up to him halfway down the lane, where Maeglin had sunk onto the corner of a park bench and was sobbing silently into his arms. “Maeglin? Is it all right if I touch you?”

Maeglin glanced up and quickly looked away again. “You don’t have to, Tyelpë. I know I ruined everything; you don’t have to try to be nice about it.”

Sitting beside him, Celebrimbor put an arm around him carefully in case he’d really meant that as a no, but Maeglin leaned into him and hid his face in his shirt. “We all say things we wish we hadn’t sometimes. You were upset, and I didn’t handle it very well. I forgive you.”

Maeglin shook his head. “None of that was your fault.”

“Come back to the house with me, won’t you? I’ll make us some tea. It’s cold out here.”

“Didn’t really think you’d want me around anymore. I was gonna just leave the glass on the step for you.”

Celebrimbor kissed his temple gently. “I have your favorite cookies. The almond ones.”

Maeglin rubbed his eyes, though he was still crying enough that it didn’t help much. “If you’re sure?”

“I am. Come on.” Neither spoke until Celebrimbor had settled them in the kitchen with the kettle on, but Maeglin let him hold his hand on the walk back, tangling his fingers with Celebrimbor’s and giving them a grateful squeeze. Celebrimbor made the promised tea, stirring a spoonful of honey into Maeglin’s and pondering, as he watched him hesitantly nibble a cookie, whether he should prepare a proper meal. He had a feeling Maeglin hadn’t eaten much in the last few days.

“I saw Idril yesterday,” Maeglin said quietly.

“Oh?” Worry wound about his heart. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Maeglin poured out more of that hateful possessiveness. If Maeglin was set on it…he didn’t think he could stay friends if the way Maeglin had harassed Idril last week was to become regular, and he didn’t want to face losing Maeglin for good. 

“You were right. I’m not any better than my father.” The proclamation was so matter-of-fact that Celebrimbor wondered how many times Maeglin had repeated it to himself.

“What happened?”

“I didn’t seek her out, I promise. I was in the palace gardens, walking to the library, and I ran into her on the path, and I—I was too surprised to even know what I wanted to say, and I looked up and caught what she was thinking—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to pry!”

Celebrimbor nodded; he knew it was hard for Maeglin to close off the thoughts of everyone around him, and he’d heard too many people berate him for seeing what he wasn’t meant to see.

“She was _afraid_ of me. Afraid that I’d…get _violent. I_ did that, Tyelpë, _I_ made her feel that way. It was…it was so awful. I didn’t want that, I didn’t!” He was crying again, and Celebrimbor moved closer and pulled him into his arms, holding him. When he continued, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “My mother was terrified of my father by the end. I swore I’d never be like him. I didn’t want her to feel that way. I just…I just wanted her to _notice_ me.”

Celebrimbor bit his lip, afraid of making things worse, but he felt it needed to be said. “I think she always noticed you. I think she offered you exactly the kind of relationship she wanted to have.”

Maeglin tucked his head lower and whimpered. “And then I threw it in her face trying to get something more. I’m such a fool.” He reached for his mug and cradled it against his chest. “I should go out to the mountains. I don’t want to be here. At least I could be doing something useful.”

“Forging is useful. The snow’s too thick right now, you know that. Spring will come, and then you can stay as busy in the mines as you want.”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Things will get better again.”

“I don’t see how.” He glanced guiltily up at Celebrimbor. “I know I said things that hurt you. It’s not…it’s not that I don’t want to be here with you. Gondolin’s almost bearable with you around. It’s just…it isn’t true, what I said. That I don’t love you. It’s…it’s…”

“It’s a different kind of love,” Celebrimbor offered.

“Yes. I do love you. It’s a different kind.”

Maeglin hadn’t said it in as many words before, and it felt good to hear it, despite everything. Celebrimbor wasn’t sure how he felt in return—it wasn’t the all-encompassing romantic love Maeglin yearned to have, but he thought it was possible to grow into that, in time. If Maeglin ever wanted. His parents’ love had started as a fast friendship and grown into more; he knew it could happen. He didn’t feel ready for it right now; he just wished being with Maeglin didn’t have to involve so much pain. But that was something he could help, at least a bit. “Stay here with me tonight.”

Maeglin looked at him warily. “I’m not going to want to do anything but sleep.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything else.”

“Are you still mad at me, then?”

 _Is it so hard to believe I can have feelings for you other than anger or lust?_ Maybe he was still angry, if only a little. “I just want you to have what comfort I can give.”

“Tyelpë? If I were to tell you something that’s…really difficult, would you…promise not to laugh, or to say anything about it, or…maybe not acknowledge it at all?”

“Yeah, I can do that. I will.”

Maeglin closed his eyes and clutched Celebrimbor’s hands. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Not just for tonight. For…for telling me the truth. Even when I didn’t want to hear it. That’s all.”

Celebrimbor hoped the hug he pulled Maeglin into wasn’t too much. “Do you want some more tea?”

Maeglin gave him the tiniest smile. “Yes, please. Do you still have that spicy one?”

Celebrimbor got up and dug through the packets of tea in his cupboard. “I sure do.”

Maeglin emptied the old leaves from the pot and held it out to him. “Let’s make that.”


End file.
